The Comet

When it comes, after all the waiting in
darkness over many days, over years and
centuries, all who saw it last will be gone,
as all who see it now will be.

When it dips and its tail flares a million
miles of light, ask yourself how much pain
is worth it, because when this comes again
you will be nothing. Nothing you know
will exist, nothing you felt, no one you
touched.

When you see this streak blurred like a
spotlight in clouds against black infinity,
hesitate, then pick up your guns and go on,
but never blame this moment for what
might have been. What might have been is
always at hand a crucial second before
passing, in reach long enough to change the
course.

There's nothing romantic about love.
Romantic is a description of ways in which
we treat one another, but love is the equal
of death and life--everything ends and
everything starts at its touch.

--George Evans